


Christmas Cookies

by warmth



Series: christmas [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Human, Christmas fic, F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 08:07:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/607660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warmth/pseuds/warmth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Where Derek works a bakery and Stiles needs cookies for his friends last minute. Bakery!AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Cookies

“Dammit, Dammit, _Dammit.”_

Stiles checked his watch again, throwing a glance over his shoulder, up at the sky that was just beginning to let out small flakes of tentative, fluttering snow. Lydia was going to _kill_ him—no, that would be too nice. She was going to skin him and use it to make herself a nice, designer, Stiles-coat. He groaned, speeding up.

The gangly boy nearly tripped over the threshold of the bakery, grinning up at the mistletoe overhead. He shivered at the rapid temperature change, but was happy to be out of the cold. He nearly fell over again, though, when he caught sight of the person behind the counter. He thanked whatever Gods existed for allowing him to set sight on one of their own. Seriously, this guy’s face was ridiculous; cheek bones that could cut glass, bright, beautiful eyes, and lips he’d give the world to taste. Unfortunately, they were twisted into a scowl, and he glared up at Stiles as he approached. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be, like, encouraging people to come back, not glaring them into submission?” Stiles asked, knowing it was probably a stupid thing to say, especially once he had sufficiently eyeballed the guy’s muscles, which were straining against his shirt. He stayed silent and Stiles bounced awkwardly from foot to foot. 

“Uh, right, right. I’m here to pick up? I have…” He dug around in his pockets, searching for the receipt Lydia had shoved at him yesterday morning. “Damn.” He smiled sheepishly. “Uh, my friend ordered, like, a huge batch of cookies for this Christmas party she’s throwing. I don’t suppose you could maybe forget the comment I made earlier and excuse the lack of a receipt?”

The man just gave him another glare – Stiles was beginning to suspect that his face was just permanently stuck that way – heading out to the back room. He looked around the bakery, shoving his hands into his pockets and taking in the cheery Christmas decorations and the pictures on the wall; it was a cozy little place that he wouldn’t ever have pegged a guy like the one at the counter to work at, had he met him somewhere else.

He let out an ‘oof’ as someone ran directly into his back, pulling him out of his thoughts that happened to be going a little too far south. 

“Oh, sorry, sorry!” The girl exclaimed, holding her hands out in front of her, hovering around his arms. Stiles brushed her off, taking in long, curled hair and the bright, grayish green eyes. “Has Derek taken care of you, yet?” 

He tried to avoid where his mind was taking him, veering off into a different thought completely and clearing his throat. Derek. That was a really, really nice name. 

“Uh, yeah, I think. I’m sort of just… waiting.” He had the jarring realization that this might be Derek’s _girlfriend._

She rolled her eyes, “I hope he doesn’t leave you waiting. He tends to do that.”

“That’s good for business.” The brunette laughed, holding out her hand. 

“I’m Laura.” 

“Stiles.” He swallowed down the bit of jealousy – this girl probably got to see Derek _naked._

“Well, Stiles, I hope Derek can make a regular out of you.” She winked, before running out the door with much more grace than Stiles had upon entering. He groaned, leaning against the counter. He was being obvious again, wasn’t he? There was probably a stain in the carpet where he had drooled over her boyfriend and she thought it was _funny._ Stiles chewed at his lip, watching the clock and shoving all thoughts of Derek out of his mind, while simultaneously wondering what Derek was _doing_ back there. Ever second was one that Lydia could be using to plot how to take him that long, and he knew from personal experience that Lydia could plot and she could plot on the spot. 

He tapped his long fingers against the counter, watching his watch; a minute had passed. Stiles checked his phone quickly, making sure he hadn’t accidentally missed any texts. The screen was blinking, marking off his two unread. He swallowed, opening Scott’s first. 

**From: Scott**

**Were r u? Lyds gettin mad. party starts n 30. hurry!**

Oh, God, Lydia was getting mad. He was doomed. 

**From: Jackson**

He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. If Jackson was texting him, things couldn’t be good.

**If you don’t get your ass down here right now, Stilinski, I swear to God, you’ll be dead before Lydia can start trying out her methods on _you._**

He groaned, covering his face with his hands, peering through the cracks only when Derek cleared his throat, slamming down three boxes on top of each other. 

“Here,” He said gruffly. Stiles’ brightened, nearly vaulting over the counter to hug Derek. Nearly.

“Oh my God, man, you’re a total lifesaver!” He beamed, taking the boxes and nearly dropping them. Derek’s hands shot out to catch them, but Stiles waved him off. 

“Do you need help?” Derek asked him, eyeing the boxes wearily as they leaned precariously to the left in Stiles’ arms. 

“I don’t—“ A box slipped off the top, into Derek’s waiting hands. “Yeah, I need help.”

He rolled his eyes, taking two of the boxes and holding the door for Stiles. 

“Well?”

Stiles shook his head, grinning and jogging through the doorway, waiting for Derek, who matched his strides. 

“I ran into your girlfriend, while you were out back,” He began conversationally, watching how Derek’s muscles flexed beneath his tight long-sleeve. The other man’s eyes widened considerably, eyebrows furrowing. 

“What are you talking about?”

Stiles felt his face heat up a little, deciding to blame it on the cold. “You know, your girlfriend?”

He got the same, confused look, but this time matched it with his own. “Laura?”

“Lau—Oh.” Derek was silent for a second before bursting out laughing, nearly dropping the boxes. Stiles felt himself flush, cheeks burning; he supposed now, he couldn’t blame it on the cold at all. 

“Laura—“ He could barely get a word in through his own laughter. “Laura’s my sister.” His laughter faded away with a breathy hum, but the grin stayed in place. Through his embarrassment, Stiles felt his insides twist a little looking at it. Now that he was thinking about it, the girl had looked eerily similar to Derek, with the same luminous, greenish gray eyes and high cheekbones. He felt silly for even assuming that was anyone _but_ his sister. Laura was much happier, it seemed, than her brother. 

“Oh.” He said intelligently, dropping his gaze to the ground. Derek seemed to take pity on him, placing an awkward hand on his shoulder. Distantly, Stiles wondered how he was still able to keep the boxes of cookies flat and stable.

“It’s okay. Lots of people make that mistake.” He doubted it, but took the excuse greedily. 

“So, are your cookies any good?” 

Derek scoffed. “ _Any good?_ My cookies are amazing.” He gave him a look that mixed expressive eyebrows and a cocky smirk reminiscent of Jackson’s in their high school days. Stiles grinned, flicking his eyebrows up and popping the box. 

“Your friend won’t be mad at you?”

He laughed. “Oh, she’ll be mad alright. I heard she’s already planning my demise as we speak. I figured I might as well milk it.” With that, he grabbed one of the cookies, cooing when he saw it. 

“You made these?” He gaped, turning it over in his hands and trying to balance the now open, sea-foam green box. They were in various holiday themed shapes, the one he was holding was a snowman, sprinkled with colored sugar that looked like crystals and swirls of icing. He bit into it, masking a moan. 

“Dude, these are seriously amazing. Why are you not on food network or something?” 

If his eyes weren’t deceiving him, which they very well might be, Derek seemed to be _blushing._

“That’s your car, right?” He said, and Stiles let his blatant changing of the subject slide as he stopped next to his dingy blue jeep.

“How’d you know?” Derek gave it a look of disdain.

“It’s the only car here that looks like it was made up of old parts and sheer will power.”

Stiles burst out laughing at that description, staring up at Derek, who was smiling fondly at him. His hand found it’s way to Stiles’ jaw. 

“You’ve got some…” He swiped his tongue over his lips, one side curling up.

“Derek...”

“Hale,” He supplied helpfully.

“Derek Hale, you’re not half as much of a Grinch as you pretend to be.”

He rolled his eyes, shoving Stiles’ shoulder halfheartedly. He snorted, tugging at the edges of the box until it closed once more, even as he longed for another one of Derek’s cookies. As they finished throwing the boxes into Stiles’ back seat, he grinned up at him. 

“Do you… Do you maybe want to go to this party with me?”

*

Hours later, when the party was over and Stiles was put on Lydia’s infamous clean up duties, he found a number scrawled hastily on the bottom of the cookie box. The sun was rising through the windows, catching on various glassware that lay strewn about around the Whittemore house, some of it broken. He dodged the shards, leaning closer to the box and grinning; so this is what Derek’s handwriting looked like.

“Will you go out with me?” He read aloud, lips quirking when he felt a pair of strong arms wrap around his middle. Derek leaned his head against Stiles’ shoulder, kissing his jaw. 

“Of course.”


End file.
